


Soul Meets Body

by changenotcoins



Category: Parks and Recreation
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:40:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25695949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/changenotcoins/pseuds/changenotcoins
Summary: A chance meeting at The Bulge could prove the catalyst for something a tad bit more lasting than a one night stand.
Relationships: Leslie Knope/Ben Wyatt
Comments: 5
Kudos: 22





	1. Chapter 1

It’s one of those loud and proud gay clubs.

It’s one of those bars that doesn't inspire him to readily remember its name, even though he knows it's a cliche one, like a gay sports bar called The Tight End or the appropriately dubbed Nothing Served Straight. It is tucked inauspiciously between two stores, and the front door looks like it could lead to an average apartment building or the office of some young, struggling attorney. But inside it's a good place. He’s not entirely sure why Chris decided to drag them there, of all places, but a beer is a beer and he’s game. What else could this off the wall little town offer him?

The floor is scuffed, but it must have once been shiny and perfect; black and white squares that had now faded to shades of gray. The room is packed, the sounds of a song many heated, sweaty bodies are dancing to thumping from the speakers adjacent to the DJ and drinks being slid across the counter of the bar at a seconds glance. It is dim, the only lights in bright colors bouncing off the walls. But in a place like Pawnee, this club is something of a rareity, and there is something about it that made him want to stay despite having been been dragged here against his will, in celebration of their brand new assignment in this seemingly random, nothing town in Indiana. 

He looks over at a sign on the wall and, smashed in between a poster for a local band called Mouse Rat and a flyer for a cologne called Poison by Dennis Feinstein, he can just barely make out the name of the bar he’s in: The Bulge.

Of _course_. 

The bartender looks like something out of a Vogue ad, and maybe if he'd been as bold as he sometimes wanted to be, Ben would have sidled up to her and flirted his way into a conversation and maybe something more. After all, that’s all he really could do when his job took him to different towns every few weeks or a few months, if he got lucky. There was never any chance to really get to know someone, because as soon as he tried to form some sort of connection, it was on to the next town, the next crisis, the next group of people to hate him for what he did for a living. But this year, he was without any girlfriend he'd thought he might have had, who might have been okay with his on the road type of work, maybe, possibly in love with her and had been given this new assignment for a town he really had never even heard of. He thought he knew Indiana, but Pawnee? That was new. And fitting, considering he wouldn’t exactly say it was worth visiting for any stretch of time longer than he and Chris would stay. He shakes his head and vows not to go down that road, instead choosing to nurse the beer he has before him. He'd ultimately given in to Chris’s unrelenting invitation to check out the local scene, and asked Chris to take him somewhere that didn't have too much character, a place that wouldn't stand out. The town itself appeared that way, so he figured Chris would have it easy. Ben was grateful he'd taken him here, because it felt right. Hidden away like this. He knew this wasn’t the sort of place that anything would happen, and least of all to him. 

He's decided to step out in the most fashionable outfit he had for one night, be someone he wasn't just for tonight. No button down plaid shirt with a skinny tie, his usual garb. Different, in ways he had never been. The only person who knew him here was Chris, and he liked that. He could pretend and then forget when it was all over. 

Chris appears by his side, a cold Corona in his hand. "This is for you, Ben Wyatt," he says, handing it over. "Drink up!"

"How did you get this?" Ben asks, holding up the bottle curiously. And then he shakes his head and gestures to Chris as if to say nevermind, because he knows exactly how. Even Chris, a straight man in a gay bar, would have the ability to flash his smile and say something overwhelmingly positive and likable and get a free drink from a hot guy. And Ben doesn’t mean to sound jealous, because he’s really not, but there are occasions where Chris’s good looks and bubbly personality, the one that gets him basically whatever and whoever he wants, make Ben envy him. He wishes he could be different, but he knows he won’t be. Everyone thinks he is a cold, callous jerk who wants to cut their budget to shreds and send people home crying because he just had to fire them. He has resigned to the fact that for him, love was probably just not meant to be. He knows he’s being self-deprecating but he can’t help it. He’s learned long ago that it’s best to keep his head down, do his work and move on. 

"Let's just say I have a way with men!" Chris grins and gives him a wink, snapping him out of his own self pity.

"Um, Chris... you know these men are gay, and flirting with you by buying this drink, right?"

"Ben! I know that! This is literally the best bar I have ever been to, and I knew this horrid alcohol would cheer you up," Chris declares, making a face and Ben knows it’s because Chris thinks there’s entirely too many carbs in the drink. "Ben, it's time to let loose a little before tomorrow begins. Now I brought you here because I'm tired of seeing you wallow in your sorrows. You need a fun filled night with some drinks and to be a little less tense, and I have made it my personal mission to help you achieve that!"

Ben shakes his head, his lips touching the brim of the bottle. "Nope. What I need is to stay away from any sort of interaction. They just end up hating me in these towns and then we move on to the next city and I don’t have to think about it again. I’m just going to do what I always do. Keep my head down, fix the budget here and wait for our next assignment."

"Oh, Ben! What happened to you? Let’s be optimistic and happy, and have fun!”

Ben rolls his eyes, because Chris is just so _happy_ , in any situation, and it can really grate on Ben’s nerves sometimes. "I refuse to take part in anything more than having a couple beers and then going back to the motel and watching Blade Runner or something."

“And for God’s sake, Chris, I’m not going to dance either,” he says, when it looks like Chris is about to suggest it.

Chris doesn’t say anything for a few moments, and Ben thinks that maybe Chris is taking the hint and not bugging him anymore, but then says quietly and with that Ben can only imagine is a little bit of commiseration for Ben’s pathetic self, “Still holding out for that ten, Ben Wyatt?" 

Ben turns his head to look at Chris. His eyes are soft, and it occurs to him that what Chris is doing isn't for the reasons he initially thinks. Chris really isn't trying to pimp him out; he's just trying to help him get his life back. This job was lonely and isolating, and he was beginning to tire of the charade, something he probably would never admit to Chris. He knows that Chris truly does care, and he appreciates it. As much as he irked Ben, Chris was always there. He sighs heavily and then… 

He decides to fuck it all and let loose. Just for this one night, and maybe... maybe things will begin to change. He chugs the golden liquid and slams the bottle down on the wood counter, motioning for the bartender to get him a shot of something stronger in the hopes that if he's going to be making a fool of himself tonight, he's damn well not going to do it sober.

Chris laughs and is delighted as Ben throws caution to the wind and begins to gyrate on the dance floor. Chris decides it's time to depart from the club and leave Ben to discover what he may on his own. And, as far as he can tell, he's doing a pretty good job of that already. Chris watches as Ben dances in ways he's never seen before, but always knew he could. It was nice to see the little man let loose. He smiles as he leaves a few bills with the bartender and proceeds to leave, bumping shoulders with a short blonde woman on his way out. She flashes him a big grin and gives him an enthusiastic greeting, and he can see that her eyes are bright and a beautiful shade of blue as he apologizes and makes his way swiftly through the enormous crowd. He doesn't know enough about her, but if only Ben could find a girl like that... he shakes his head at the thought and keeps walking.

The woman keeps walking too, straight into the throng of people. She sees a cute guy dancing shamelessly among them, moving his cute little butt, and she decides that it's her turn.

"Hey!" Ben yells over the occupants and the music. He's never really been one to be timid when it comes to the opposite sex, but something about the person opposite him makes him tingle all over and become very nervous. She smiles back reassuringly and asks his name and when he tells her, she just laughs and pulls him as close to her body as she can get him. He doesn’t bother to learn hers.

The music, the air and the feeling of her hands on his body are intoxicating and he feels the overwhelming attraction brewing between them. He silently thanks Chris for forcing him to get out and ultimately thrusting him into the Pawnee nightlife and in the arms of this woman, whoever she might be, one as gorgeous she is. Something of which he hasn't seen the likes of in a very long time. Upon very drunk instinct, he grabs her hands and leads her outside, not caring for tonight that he barely knows this woman, because somehow he trusts her, or that he's drunk beyond words. But words aren't needed, especially when his lips find hers. 

And somehow, they're not kissing in the cold outside the club anymore, but are making their way up the stairs to what he could only assume was her house, lips never leaving each other's. Ben pulls her closer and stumbles backwards until his shoulders hit something solid and wooden. 

Front door, he thinks, and then coherent thought deserts him entirely.

Her lips are eager and hungry on his, and her blonde curls are soft beneath his skin as he rakes his fingers through them, pulling her mouth more firmly against his. Their kiss increases in fervor with every minute, touches grow bolder by the second, and they stumble through the front door and to the bedroom, neither wanting to let their eager lips away from the other's for long enough to give the task the proper focus it deserves.

And as Ben gently lowers her down on the rumpled duvet with the air of a man who has had a lot of practice at this sort of thing, he's too drunk to even give a moment's thought about the next two words that roll off of her tongue: "Don't stop."

And so he doesn't.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the short first and second chapters, but they're basically fillers to explain the premise and then the following chapters will be much longer, I promise! Also, comments and kudos are so appreciated! <3
> 
> Enjoy!

Ben is vaguely aware of a pair of arms wrapped around his torso. He's also vaguely aware of the hot breath that is tickling his neck as it exhales and the blonde curls on his shoulder. And he's vaguely aware of a prominent part of his anatomy pressing into the thigh that is draped over his. 

But somehow, he doesn't care. On any normal morning he'd protest, but this morning he just inhales the very feminine scents of what he thinks are vanilla and whipped cream and slight musk from sleep. He impulsively shifts closer and smiles as a soft breath tickles his hair. His eyes skirt over the form that's in his bed and he realizes it's been a very long while since he has had a woman in his bed. The incessant pounding in his head gives way to some of the memories of last night and oh, _God_ , he could just _kill_ Chris. In what world did he think this would be a good idea? He scrubs a hand over his face in frustration and then he lifts the sheets gently and sneaks a peek underneath, taking in the sight of her naked body and the woman lying next to him. He winces at the revelation, berating himself for doing the one thing he vowed not to.

But he likes this. _Loves_ this.

This woman is gorgeous, there's absolutely no denying that. It’s a sort of unconventional beauty and not at all like the tall brunettes he usually pursues, but her warm skin is soft underneath Ben’s fingertips as he ghosts them across, her rosy lips look luscious and incredibly kissable curved in a half grin and her eyeshadow is still smoky but smudged and he doesn’t care about that either. But as Ben knows all too well, looks can be deceiving. She seems perfect and dare he say angelic, but Ben knows nothing beyond what he sees. His mind wanders, searching for a solution to extract himself from this situation. 

He doesn't have much time to dally on the enigma however, for the woman beside him is shifting slightly and yawning. Ben gulps and the trepidation he tried to keep buried was creeping up faster and faster. What was he supposed to say? What was he supposed to do?

She grounds the heel of her palm into her eyes and opens them so slowly that at first that Ben thinks he's imagining her moving altogether, and reveals blue eyes that are so vivid and mesmerizing that make it hard for Ben to look away. She scans the room, her eyes coming to rest on Ben's. Her eyebrows raise high and those beautiful blue eyes are now widening. She mumbles something that sounds not unlike the word 'fuck'.

"Hey..." she says wearily, as if expecting something. "Good morning."

"Good morning," Ben mumbles. He doesn't know what to say beyond the simple cordial response because nothing he says will make the situation any less complicated than it is. But he desperately wants to know if the woman beside him remembers even a minute detail, because he does and he really, _really_ hopes that she doesn’t. 

"What exactly happened last night?"

Ben shrugs, hooking a finger through a loose thread on her comforter as he avoided those blue eyes. "Your guess is as good as mine." 

But he does know. He remembers everything, from the moment he first saw her to making love to waking up this morning in the arms of someone he’s already so enamored by. He knows he took advantage of her drunken state, and he hates that he did. He also knows he's downright pathetic for not giving a damn. It's been a long time since he's felt this way about someone and he wasn't about to give up the handed opportunity to spend at least one drunken night with her, even if he has to lie his way through it. 

But this was crazy, wasn’t it? He doesn’t even _know_ her. It was beyond insane to go down this road and to assume this was anything other than the one night stand he knows it is. After all, he would never see her again and this was just another bump in the road of his pitiful love life. In a few short weeks, he’d be off to another town in bleak and beige Indiana and he needed to forget about this. Forget about _her_.

She buries her face in her hands and groans. "God, I don't remember anything except Ann taking me to The Bulge, but after that it's all a blur. I don’t do this kind of thing and now I did and now here you are. In my bed. And I don't even know your _name_ ," she says, and slaps a hand to her forehead as a thought occurs to her. "Oh my God, I – how much did I have to drink?" 

Ben sees the panic setting in for her and his stomach drops. This was a mistake. This wasn’t right. He doesn't do this. He doesn't ever do this. 

"Did we use anything?" 

Ben leans over the bed, searching for the wrapper of the condom he knows he used. He finds it half hidden underneath the bed, torn in half in his haste to slip it on the night before. He gives her a reassuring smile as he hands the wrapper to her, instantly seeing the relief written over her features.

"Oh, thank God," she sighs. He watches her as she hangs her head, her blonde curls sticking up in various directions. Ben has to admit, she's adorable. "I, uh... I don't do this. I'm not this kind of person; I don't sleep around and I don't sleep with strangers. I don't even know you, but I can assure you that the Leslie Knope you saw isn't me. I'm just - "

"Yeah, you said that and you keep saying that," Ben cuts in. His voice is quiet but steady, not shying away from her. He's learned over the years that rejection is like a second nature for him from everyone; that instead of letting the words hang in the air, bracing himself for whatever reaction was bound to come, he might as well just agree and move on. 

But maybe, he thinks, this won't turn out the way the past encounters have because it's one thing he and Leslie have in common. _Leslie Knope_. That was her name and something about it fit her, he thought.

"And I don't do this either." Ben says, gesturing between them as his cheeks burn red.

"Well, that's good," Leslie says slowly. "I mean, not exactly good, because you and I are here but - well, you know what I mean." 

He laughs awkwardly and oh God, she's on the verge of rambling, he can tell, but inside he's overwhelmingly relieved and it strikes him that if he had to have a drunken one night stand with anyone, he'd have to go with her. It's inherently weird of him to think that he trusts her already, but a part of him just _does_. The woman before him has such a genuine air about her with those blonde curls he likes that fall haphazardly and her dazzling smile, a kind face and dancing, read all expressions eyes. She's so damn beautiful like this that it hurts. He shouldn’t be thinking of her like this, but he is. And Ben almost wants to feel embarrassed and insecure. He knows he's not at all an ugly duckling, but still - she slept with him and that’s something to someone like him.

It remains silent for a few moments before Ben interjects with the answer to something Leslie had mentioned earlier. "My name is Ben, by the way. Ben Wyatt." 

"Ben?" Leslie tries to suppress a laugh, but inevitably fails and it breaks the tension somewhat. "I feel like this is some movie I’m in and wow, this is so awkward right now."

Ben gives her a sweet smile, thoughts of the night before flooding back into his mind. He remembers having too many drinks due to Chris’s constant persistency, and deciding being good wasn't good enough anymore. He remembers dancing with too many strangers that didn't interest him in the slightest, and then finding someone who did. He remembers throwing himself at her without a care. He remembers what their skin on skin felt like, the desire and lust he felt as she attacked him with her lips, hands and other body parts. And as he remembers, he realizes he wants to do it again because it had been unlike anything he'd ever experienced. 

But he keeps this thought buried inside him, doesn't even want to think about scaring Leslie off, although he feels as though she will run away anyways. Because he doesn't really know her but he sees things about her and he's certain that Leslie just wants to forget about the night before, much to his chagrin. Because he knows a one night stand is just that - it doesn't become the happily ever after.

He wasn't going to tell Leslie Knope anything.

And he was never going to see her again.

"I have to go," Ben finally whispers, pulling the sheet with him to cover up his exposed body. He dresses with lightning speed and grabs what belongings he has strewn across the floor from the hazy night before. "It's been… fun.” 

He hates this part and Ben doesn't say another word, because really, what's there to say? Please let me stay? I don't want to go? I think I might actually like you and want to do this again? As much as he may want to, he knows he can't say any of that.

Because that's not how it works.

"I really have to leave now," Ben says in a low voice, casting his eyes away from Leslie as he backs away toward the door. This is the awkward part of this mess, only made worse by the fact that Leslie has her sad, puppy dog eyes trained on him as she watches him walk away. He sees a mixture of emotions wash over Leslie’s face; confused shock but also rejection and sadness and disappointment and hurt. 

He can’t stay and see this. He just can’t. Ben has to go now. "Goodbye, Leslie Knope."

For the second time in the span of two days, he doesn't listen to himself and does something he knows is against his better judgment.

He lets Leslie Knope go.


End file.
